I lay a-sleeping, there came a dream so fair;
I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the temple there."

A steer stepped restlessly out of the herd, and Thurston's horse,
trained to the work, of his own accord turned him gently back.

"I heard the children singing; and ever as they sang,
Me thought the voice of angels from heaven in answer rang."

From the west the thunder boomed, drowning the words in its
deep-throated growl.

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing."

"Hit her up a little faster, Bud, or we'll lose some. They're getting on
their feet with that thunder."

Sunfish, in answer to Thurston's touch on the reins, quickened to a
trot. The joggling was not conducive to the best vocal expression, but
the singer persevered:

"Hosanna in the highest,
Hosanna to your King!"

Flash! the lightning cut through the storm-clouds, and Bob, who had
contented himself with a subdued whistling while he listened, took up
the refrain:

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem."

It was as if a battery of heavy field pieces boomed overhead. The entire
herd was on its feet and stood close-huddled, their tails to the coming
storm. Now the horses were loping steadily in their endless circling--a
pace they could hold for hours if need be. For one blinding instant
Thurston saw far down the valley; then the black curtain dropped as
suddenly as it had lifted.

"Keep a-hollering, Bud!" came the command, and after it Bob's voice
trilled high above the thunder-growl:

"Hosanna in the high-est.
Hosanna to your King!"

A strange thrill of excitement came to Thurston. It was all new to him;
for his life had been sheltered from the rages of nature. He had never
before been out under the night sky when it was threatening as now. He
flinched when came an ear-splitting crash that once again lifted the
black curtain and showed him, white-lighted, the plain. In the dark that
followed came a rhythmic thud of hoofs far up the creek, and the rattle
of living castanets. Sunfish threw up his head and listened, muscles
a-quiver.

"There's a bunch a-running," called Bob from across the frightened herd.
"If they hit us, give Sunfish his head, he's been there before--and keep
on the outside!"

Thurston yelled "All right!" but the pounding roar of the stampede
drowned his voice. A whirlwind of frenzied steers bore down upon
him--twenty-five hundred Panhandle two-year-olds, though he did not know
it then